


i was dead when i woke up this morning

by skvadern



Series: skvadern does the heart of aphrodite [5]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, POV Outsider, The Heart of Aphrodite 2021, Violence, revenge or justice? whos to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern
Summary: The hell of it, Jacques thinks as he stumbles down the passage, is the massive orc with the wailing weapon hadn’t even looked angry.For The Heart Of Aphrodite Day 5: Restraint - Revenge - Rage
Series: skvadern does the heart of aphrodite [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149617
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	i was dead when i woke up this morning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Leather, Lace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116281) by [Zai42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42). 



> paladins are fuckin scary, yall. this is intended to be a continuation/companion piece to zai's masterpiece of cel whump. if u havent read said masterpiece, theres details about the rape/noncon elements in the end notes if ppl wanna spoil themselves before reading.  
> title from seven devils by florence and the machine cause why not

The hell of it, Jacques thinks as he stumbles down the passage, is the massive orc with the wailing weapon hadn’t even looked _angry_. Her expression had been calm and clear as a still lake as she’d sliced into the others, as her screaming great-axe had hewn through flesh and bone with, Gods, the most awful noises. Jacques had been witness to beatings before, stabbings and the occasional bout of combat magic, but he’d never seen anything so brutal, so much force applied to bodies with something so huge and sharp. He’s never seen someone’s entrails before, never heard the sound of a spine being severed or a shoulder joint being split almost apart.

Behind him, someone else yells a battle cry, and Jacques flinches as it twists into a shriek of agony, before dying away. His fear is a living thing inside him, clawing through his ribcage and taking huge, gnawing bites out of his lungs. All he can do is keep running on legs that don’t feel like his anymore, that feel already splintered apart.

The acoustics down in the passages that stretch under his boss’s fine house taunt him. He can hear her boots thud down the corridors, her slow, steady tread getting closer and closer, and he knows she can hear his own frantic flight. He tries to push forward, put on some speed; he knows this place, surely he can outrun her –

His foot catches on an uneven flagstone and he’s falling, hands flying out to stop his face smacking into the ground. As soon as he realises he’s down, he’s trying to scramble to his feet, ignoring his burning palms and the shooting pain in his ankle, but before he can even get his hands under him properly, there’s a heavy weight sinking down on his shoulder blades.

Jacques yells, struggling frantically to push himself up, but the orc just presses her boot down harder, and he’s forced to subside before she breaks his ribs. He can’t bite down the little whimpers that come with every breath, any more than he can calm his shivering heart.

“Stay. Down.” The order is cool, final. When she removes her foot from his back, he remains still, face pressed into the stone he’d swept clean the other day.

“Who _are_ you?” he whispers, then bites his tongue so hard that salty copper explodes across his tongue.

Instead of the violent retaliation he’s expecting, the orc replies – and fuck, with that _voice_ , that’s almost worse. “I am a paladin of Aphrodite, here to avenge what was done to one of my people.”

One of – oh. Oh gods. That weird half-elf, the one that his boss and her cronies had –

Well. They had said they had friends, hadn’t they? People who’d come looking. They had told Jacques and the others who’d guarded them, who’d… who’d prepared them, that they would all regret it.

Shaking so hard his teeth start to chatter, Jacques rolls over onto his front, and the orc lets him. She stares down at him with dark, glacial eyes, like he’s an insect she’s debating whether or not to stamp on.

He’d been wrong, he can see that now. The orc is _furious_ , the kind of apocalyptic rage that’d brought Eiffel’s Folly sloughing down. She’s just so calm, so calculated and deliberate, that he hadn’t recognised it for anger.

“Please,” he whimpers, dignity gone. “Please, it wasn’t me, I didn’t-“

“But you let it be done,” the orc replies, and her voice is a mountain blizzard, slicing winds and frozen rock. “You didn’t stop it. You didn’t even try.”

But of course he hadn’t tried! If he’d stuck his neck out it would’ve been sliced off, how can she not realise that? He hadn’t wanted them to hurt the half-elf, not like that, but the people he works for are powerful, calculating and vicious. Nobody gets in their way, and Jacques _is_ a nobody.

He can’t tell her that. It will sound like the desperate lying of a guilty man – it’s not, it is _not_ , but that’s what she’ll hear. So he bites his tongue, distantly impressed that he’s managed to. Keeping his mouth shut has always been an issue of his.

The orc fills the silence. “Where is your mistress?”

Jacques wavers for a moment, the ingrained of a lifetime grinding into his skull – but if it’s death later or death right now, he knows the smart option. “She’s got a saferoom in the cellar, behind the wine rack. She’ll have gone there, and brought her associates with her, those that’re still here.”

“Will I be able to get in?” she asks, and Jacques forces himself to think.

“The wards are strong, but there’s a weakness on the ceiling. Some interference with other wards on the house. Go up to the red sitting room and you’ll have an easier time breaking through the floor there than going in through the door.”

The orc nods slowly, lips pressed thinly together. “Alright,” she says, and her gaze sharpens back to him. It’s like being stabbed. He knows, coldly knows, that she’s deciding whether to leave him alive.

Frozen, weak with horror, he finally loses control of his mouth. “We didn’t kill them! They’re fine, they’ll be safe with your lot right now. You got them back, and you’ll be able to get the ones who hurt them. No harm done, right?”

It’s the wrong thing to say, he knows that as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but gods help him, he can’t take them back. The orc’s face freezes.

“No. Harm. Done?” she asks, and oh but her voice is so _calm_ , fucking _serene_. She raises the axe, the gleaming metal gone matte where blood has started to dry.

“Please,” Jacques whispers, but if there was any mercy in this woman’s eyes before he opened his fool mouth, it’s gone now. It’s like looking into the face of a storm.

The last thing he hears, after the unearthly wail of that cursed blade swinging, is the heavy tread of armoured boots walking away. By the time they’ve faded, everything is very dark, and very cold, and very quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> the implied rape/noncon tag refers to references to the Unspecified Villains sexually assaulting/raping a captured cel. this has taken place off-screen, and the fic is concerned mainly with the vicious extrajudicial killing of everyone involved, but there are mentions aplenty of it occuring


End file.
